Too Much
by storyofeden
Summary: Castiel is a lonely college student with plenty of problems. Professor Dean Winchester always takes an interest in his students, but Castiel is...different.
1. Chapter 1

Castiel "Cas" LeCoeur liked writing things out with a pencil and a piece of paper, not with a computer. He loved the smell of books, old and new, and he liked his eggs over easy with toast. Some days, he wore a suit and tie to class. Others, he simply threw on grungy jeans and an old t-shirt. He wakes up at the same time every morning, goes to bed at the same time every night, regardless of whether or not his homework is done.

None of this, though, is any reason for his classmates to stare and whisper about him, which they do whenever he happens to be within their line of vision. No, they treat him like a leper, he supposes, because essentially is one.

Cas is bipolar. He also has mild delusions and a pre-disposition to addiction. Every day at noon, regardless of where he is, Cas will sit down and take medications. There are six of them, which he counts exactly three times before finally swallowing them all.

He's not bad at hiding it, at least not at first. But, like everyone, he has good days and bad days. The problem is that his bad days are atrocious, and his good days are phenomenal. There is rarely any middle ground for Castiel. The meds help, of course, but his disease will never truly go away.

School is not easy for him. His peers tease him for being weird. He supposes that he is, but if he could only explain it all to them. He would tell them how, if he doesn't take his meds, he ends up on the floor in the fetal position in a panic attack. Or how there are mornings where it takes all he has to get out of bed, so he neglects the shower and shave and grabs whatever is on his bedroom floor. Or how the days where he actually speaks up in class are usually worse, because that means he's having a manic episode. And his mania usually results in him waking up, hungover, on a street corner with no idea what has happened.

Again, his meds usually helped when it came to the extremes. He didn't wake up disoriented and jonesing anymore, but if he spoke out in class, he knew it wasn't simply because he had a question.

Castiel is 24. Older than the average age of his classmates, but medical visits and hospital wards made it very hard to keep up with the semester.

Nights are usually worse. It's like his brain goes into hyper-drive and he can't turn it off. Then, it goes one of two ways. He either cries himself to sleep, or he starts making plans for things he knows good and well will never happen.

Add in the fact that the last year of his community college career starts tomorrow, and you've got a recipe for disaster. So at 11:30, he took his sleeping medication and went to bed, as he always did. His alarm was set for 8. While most kids were excited to start the new school year and hoping they made all sorts of new friends, Castiel simply prayed that he would make it through this semester without incident.

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><p>Professor Dean Winchester loved literature. He loved teaching literature. He loved literature majors. What most definitely didn't love is the dickwad who decided that he would be the perfect person to teach Math 145 or "University Math for Humanities Majors". He'd taught it for a 4 semesters now, so he had it down pat, but still. Dumb idea.<p>

He rubbed and hand over his face and sighed. It was 8:45 in the morning, he was wearing a light blue button down with a dark blue sweater-vest, and he hadn't had his coffee yet. Having a 9am class this year was going to suck.

One of Dean's favorite things to do was watch his students. Not in a creepy way like the physics professor they just hired, but he just liked to get to know his students. By the end of the first class session, he could usually tell you their names, what their major was, and what kind of person they were.

The girl who just walked in, he decided, was the nerdy sort. Not only was she the first on to arrive, but she also took the front row center seat. A few jocks, sporting lacrosse and baseball jerseys, sauntered in and sat on the side of the room farthest from the door. The boy who walked in next, though, was not the usual sort he had in this class.

He was a small man, in comparison to the burly boys in the room, but he was not unhealthy or weak by any means. His hair stuck out at every angle, as if he'd simply run his fingers through it after waking up. The boy wore jeans and a Def Leppard t-shirt. After entering the room with his head down, he walked down the first row and took the seat in the very back corner. As the rest of the students filed in, he glanced at each one, but his attention was on the odd boy who'd captured his interest.

His name is Castiel, Dean finds out when he calls roll. It fits him, as strange a name as it is.

After giving the speech that ever professor gives on the first day of classes, and going through the syllabus, Dean dismisses everyone.

"Ah, Castiel?" He catches the boy as he tries to slip out the door. "May I speak with you?"

Castiel swallowed dryly. "Yes, Professor?"

Dean picked several papers up off his desk, "I see you've taken this class before?" He gets no answer. "Castiel?"

"Cas…It's, um…" he stutters. "You can call me Cas."

"Alright, Cas. It says here that you've taken this class before?"

He simply nods.

"Why is there no grade listed, then? And why are you taking it again?" Dean's tone was not interrogative, it sounded as though he genuinely cared.

"I…had to end up dropping the class that semester." Cas was never one for divulging information, but for some reason he continued. "I actually had to drop all my classes that semester, but…it was after the add/drop deadline. So I just got an incomplete. I, uh, I guess they didn't note it as such in the file…or…something." He trailed off at the end. He had finally looked up from his feet to find Professor Winchester look at him intensely.

"Okay, then," Dean stood up. "I wish you better luck this semester. I look forward to seeing you in class."

"Thank you, Professor." Cas nodded to him, then turned towards the door.

"Cas?" He turned around to see Professor Winchester smiling at him. "Call me Dean."


	2. Chapter 2

**And here we have it: Chapter Two.**

**Enjoy**

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><p>The next few days went by fairly well for Cas. None of his classes seemed to be too terribly bad, at least so far, and he'd managed not to make a fool of himself yet. Things were definitely looking up for him, which made the grin on his face almost permanent.<p>

That is, until about 3 weeks into the semester, when everything went to hell in a hand basket. Professor Winchester, Dean, had administered a pop quiz. If there was one thing Cas couldn't do, it was surprises, especially bad ones.

The panic set in at full capacity as soon as the paper reached his desk. It was only 5 questions he could do this.

1. Answer…Double check. Correct.

2. Answer…Double check. Correct.

3. Answer…Double check. Correct.

4. Answer…Double check. Correct.

5. …

Cas blinked. He was almost done. This was the last question. He could this.

5. …

He vigorously worked the problem out, all the while praying that this wouldn't ruin the good mood he'd had going. It wasn't fair, really, how much one little thing could alter his mood, how much different he was as a person depending on said mood.

He got his answer. He double checked it

Wrong.

He got another answer. He double checked it.

Wrong.

Frustration and anxiety overpowered him. He could understand why it wasn't working. It was a simple problem. It was supposed to be easy.

Answer…Double check. Wrong. Shit.

"I don't understand why it's not fucking working!"

The room went deathly quiet. Had he actually said that out loud?

"Castiel? May I speak with you outside please?"

The entire room snickered.

Yes. Yes he had, in fact, said it out loud.

* * *

><p>He waited just outside the door for Cas to get through the rows of backpacks and reach the door.<p>

"Cas—" Dean started when he'd arrived.

"I'm so sorry, Professor Winchester. It'll never happen again. I got so frustrated and I—"

Dean grasped his shoulders to get him to calm down and focus. "Castiel. Breath."

He watched his student draw in deep breaths and exhale them slowly. His groined tightened. Dean couldn't help but notice how truly beautiful his student was. The breathing seemed to work, though the harried, scared look in Cas's large blue eyes didn't leave.

Dean started again, "Cas, if you don't understand the material, we can certainly find you a tutor, or I can spend some extra time with you myself, alright?"

Cas swallowed dryly. As glorious as spending extra time with this particular professor sounded, he understood the material very well was not an adept liar. He simply hated having to tell his teachers. They always thought he was faking it and didn't care, if they even noticed in the first place. The teachers who did know looked at him with pity in their eyes. Cas hated being pitied.

"I'm…I'm not comfortable speaking about it here. May we…speak later?"

Dean nodded, surprised. This boy's maturity was beyond his years. Whatever the problem was, he more than earned Dean's time. "Yes, of course."

* * *

><p>They agreed to meet around 5:30, after both of their classes had ended for the day. Cas was nervous. Of course, he was often nervous when talking with professors, but there was something about Professor Winchester….Dean, that had his pulse rate higher than usual and his palms sweaty.<p>

Castiel was standing in the doorway to Dean's office holding two coffees when the professor looked up from his desk and smiled warmly.

Cas blushed, then attempted to cover, talking a mile a minute. "I, uh, I brought you coffee, I didn't know what you liked though, so I just got a regular coffee." He set the two cups on the desk. "So I also got you cream and sugar. It's from the shop down the street, I hope that's okay. It's my favorite place, and I wanted to thank you so—"

"Cas," Dean stopped him. And he thought he'd never hear a sweeter sound. Apparently, he was feeling poetic. "Thank you. That was very thoughtful."

Dean motioned for him to sit down. He did, and they fell into a comfortable silence. It was Cas who spoke first.

"The official diagnosis is Bipolar Disorder with delusional tendencies and a pre-disposition to addiction." He paused for a moment. Then, "It's not as bad as it sounds, truly. I don't have auditory or visual hallucinations. I do not have multiple personalities. Though it does seem that way sometimes, I suppose. I was diagnosed four years ago. The medications I take keep me stable, but every day is different. I can identify my triggers more easily than I used to be able to. My moods still fluctuate, but it's not as bad as it used to be, I assure you. The reason I am retaking this class is because I hit a bad spot and I woke up early one Tuesday morning in hospital. They transported me to a facility, where I subsequently missed a week of classes. I plan to finish this semester with no…slip-ups, though I'm sure you understand that I can't exactly plan this sort of thing."

When he'd finished his speech of sorts, Dean simply took a long pull of his coffee, set it back down, and looked back at him. Cas started to panic. Had he said too much? Was he going to be kicked out of the class? Was it all over for him at this school?

"I'm gay."

Cas's jaw dropped. "Um…?"

Dean shrugged. "You're bipolar. I'm gay. And I think the jock that sits in the front has crabs." He grinned. "What I'm saying is it doesn't matter."

Staying silent, Cas quickly finished his coffee. "It doesn't?"

"Nope. Not at all."

"But…I disrupted class today…"

"So?" Dean responded. "It happens. One time in high school, I feel asleep in class and my friend thought it would be funny if he pushed me over. I landed on the floor with a scream. At least your disruption was related to the material."

Cas literally couldn't believe he was having this conversation. At this point, his teachers usually dismissed him, or lectured him on the value of education, or recommended a good therapist. But then, Dean wasn't usual, that much was clear.

"Tell me about your delusions. You said they're different from hallucinations?" Dean smiled again. "Good to know I'm not going to enter my classroom or office to find you salting all the entrances to ward off demons."

The sudden change of subject surprised him a little, but he bounced back quickly and laughed at the joke, even if it was a rather pathetic one. "Um. Yeah. It's more like…I love to read, but I have to be careful. Because if I get really into the book, then I forget that…the book's world isn't real. And I lose reality. And then…it just…goes from there."

"Doesn't everyone do that?"

Cas smirked at the thought. "Yes, I suppose."

They fell into a companionable silence yet again. To be honest, it made Cas feel much better. It was rare that he felt comfortable in a shared silence.

This time, Dean broke the silence. "To die to sleep,/To sleep, perchance to Dream; Ay, there's the rub,/For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come,/When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,/Must give us pause."

Cas froze, then murmured, "Hamlet. Act 3. Scene 1."

"Yes," Dean smiled. He truly liked Cas. Probably more than a teacher should like a student, but that didn't matter right now. So he continued. "It's alright, Cas. Even Hamlet, one of the greatest literary characters of all time, went through down spells." He reached across the desk and squeezed Cas's hand. It was cold. "The important part is that you make it through them."

They spent the next hour or so discussing…everything. It was the first time that Cas had really felt that it was okay to open up to someone. He felt as though he'd actually made a friend. It was comforting to know that someone cared about whether he was up or down. At the end of the meeting, which had lasted much longer than either expected, they shook hands and said their goodbyes.

At the door, Cas turned back towards his teach nervously. "Could we…maybe…meet again? It's very nice to have someone that I can confide in."

Dean smiled, which he seemed to be doing a lot of tonight, "Of course. I'll check my schedule and we'll set up a time."

Cas walked to his car feeling very hopeful, a warm feeling spreading through his body.

Dean half-ran to his car, excited to get home and do some research. He wanted to understand more about his favorite student.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3!

Enjoy!

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><p>At this point, Dean probably could have written a dissertation on students with bipolar disorder, he'd done so much research. Any other teacher would have read Wikipedia and been done with it. Not Dean. No, he scoured every book he could find and had been on every website worth anything at least twice. From WebMD, to MayoClinic, to , Dean had read everything.<p>

So when Castiel missed his class the following week, Dean began to worry. He asked the other teachers. Cas hadn't been to their classes either.

Rarely did he abuse his power as a professor. But it was the third day Cas hadn't been to any of his classes. Dean cancelled his last two classes, went straight to the admin office, and damn near charmed the pants off the female secretary. He got Cas's address and headed to that side of town.

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><p>Cas groaned when the knock on the door snapped him out of a waking-coma. He hadn't left the couch in three days, opting to watch reruns of Roseanne instead of doing anything productive. Half-expecting it to be his landlord, who checked in on him sometimes, Cas opened the door without checking the peephole.<p>

He couldn't speak when he saw who it really was.

"Cas…" Dean spoke on a sigh, sounding relieved. He couldn't imagine why.

Then, suddenly, he was enveloped in a tight hug. Cas stood stock still.

"Um…" was all he could get out before Dean abruptly let him go and entered the apartment.

Cas rarely had company. In fact, he never had company. Which meant that his apartment was barely livable by most people's standards. Embarrassment turned his cheeks a deep red. Dean looked around the room for a moment, turned to him, said "Shower," and pushed him towards the bathroom.

Any protest Cas had died on his lips when he saw the look in Dean's eyes. He looked…concerned. With a warm feeling in his stomach, Cas hit the showers.

* * *

><p>Dean hated cleaning almost as much as he hated math. And research. Yet, here he was, cleaning the apartment of the student whom he had a massive crush on. Why was this his life? By the time Cas got out of the shower, all the old pizza boxes and empty pop cans were gone, and the clothes littering the floor had been put in the laundry. Dean was sitting on the hand-me-down couch with a cup of coffee.<p>

He looked up when Cas entered the room. He looked better, to some extent, and he had put on a clean pair of lounge pants and a zip-up hoodie, foregoing a shirt. Dean couldn't think of anything he'd ever seen that was quite as beautiful as the sight before him.

"You…You didn't have to clean…" Cas said softly, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.

"It was nothing, really. I read somewhere that…um…people with bipolar disorder do better in clean environments." He hoped his voice didn't betray his nervousness.

It was the right thing to say, it seemed, because suddenly, he was on the couch next to Dean. They looked into each other's eyes for a second before Cas's leaned in and their lips met. Of course, Dean responded in kind. The person he was head over heels for was kissing him, why wouldn't he kiss back? But then Cas pushed him back on the couch and straddled him, deepening the kiss.

And Dean pushed him away, breaking the kiss. The look on Cas's face was full of rejection.

Shit.

"Cas…I'm not stopping because I don't want it. I do, okay?" Cas nodded. "I just…We need to talk. You need to talk."

Cas got off Dean and sat on the opposite end of the couch. He looked…doubtful.

"Cas?"

He sighed. "Why do you even care? Why did you come over here? No one else does. No one else asks how I've been or why I missed class. My teachers don't even notice when I'm not there. Which speaks a lot about our educational system, mind you. In case you haven't noticed, I don't have a lot of friends." He paused. "No, I take that back. I don't have any friends. My parents don't even call to see how I am. When I was diagnosed, they decided that having a son with this many problems wasn't worth it. So they gave me some money and shipped me here. I have an aunt that lives in the area, but I'm pretty sure the last time I saw her, I was 4 years old. People don't like me, okay? It's a fact of life. I've gotten used to it. You should too."

His words were harsh, but Cas couldn't stop them from coming out. It was his reflex when someone got too close.

Dean laughed. He actually laughed. Cas was about to tell him to get out when Dean's hand cupped his cheek.

"Are you dense?" Dean asked. "I like you. Why else would I be here?"

"But…But I'm you're student." Cas stammered. Clearly, his brain didn't want to cooperate.

"Yes. You are. But when this class is over, you won't be."

It sounded so simple. Unable to come up with anything intelligible, Cas just smiled.

"Will you…talk to me? Please? I want to know what makes you…you."

Dean's plea wasn't much. Cas had told his story and spoken to countless of therapists and doctors. But this wasn't a professional who only wanted a paycheck. This was someone who really freakin cared.

"Well…What do you want to know?"

"Everything."

So Cas started with the easiest memory. "This isn't the first college I've attempted. When I got out of high school, I wanted to be anywhere but Podunk nowhere, which is where I grew up. So I chose the first school that accepted me."

Dean rolled his eyes and muttered something like "Didn't we all" under his breath. He never failed to make Cas smile.

"I had a hard time making friends the first few days, but by fall break, I had a full blown posse. We ate lunch together every day. We were all the same major. Hell, we did everything together. I slept in my friend's dorm room more than my own. I felt on top of the world. But when I went home for fall break, I hit rock bottom. I got so depressed I didn't know which way was up. It was so…dilapidating. I felt like I couldn't do anything. Keeping my eyes open was a hardship. Unfortunately, it didn't stay at home. When I went back to school, the low came with me. My grades started to suffer. I lost friends because they were so tired of me 'just being sad for attention.' It was…disheartening. Every friend I'd made had just left on the drop of a hat."

Dean shifted to sit closer to Cas, placing a hand on his knee.

Cas continued, eyes quickly filling with tears. "After that…I started drinking heavily. I went to every party I caught wind of. Anything so that I didn't have to feel. Because when I did feel, it wasn't pretty. My weekends were filled with bad beer and pot. On weeknights, I'd just lie in bed and stare at the wall. It was all I had energy for. It went like that for a while. Little did I know, I was rapid cycling and my moods were switching and I couldn't really control any of it. Hence the self-medicating." Tears were flowing freely now. "Then…one night…I just. I couldn't do it anymore. I was so lonely. I hated my future. I hated my present, my past. I didn't have friends. My teachers didn't pay any attention to me. So I just…decided. I drove to this lake near the school. It wasn't very big, but it would do. I…I parked my car. And…"

Sobs racked his body. Dean thought about interrupting, saying something, anything. But he had a feeling that Cas needed to say this.

"And...I…I walked to the edge of the lake. And I thought about all the friends I used to have. And how nothing was ever right with the world. And how no one would miss me when I'm gone. And I….I just…walked into the lake. Step by step, the water rising higher and higher until I…I woke up in the hospital. And I'm on the bed and there are IVs everywhere and a heart monitor and my breathing is being watched. And I'm lying there. Half dead. And the cop they stationed outside my room is talking about the weekend he had with his kids. Someone just tried to kill themselves, and the hospital staff didn't even care."

Cas crumpled against Dean. He was crying hard, hiccupping every so often. Dean just held him. He rubbed his back. And he whispered soft words that both of them needed to hear.

"I care, Cas. I'm right here…I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here…I've got you, baby. I've got you. It's gonna be okay. I care…You're alive and I care…"


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4!

Enjoy!

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><p>It went like this for a while. Cas would go to all his classes, at the stern urging of Dean, then they would cuddle and watch a movie in the evenings. Sometimes, Dean would tell him about his past, his childhood and what not; sometimes they would just in a comfortable silence. It worked pretty well for Cas's depression. Dean knew exactly how to cope with his depressive mood.<p>

Then the mania hit.

It seemed like it happened so fast, overnight. But then, that's exactly how it happened. One night, Dean held Cas as he'd cried himself to sleep, and the next morning, Cas had woken him up by bouncing on the bed and begging to go do something fun.

It was Saturday, so school wasn't the problem, but Dean was absolutely not prepared for this turn of events. He had no idea how to respond. Before, Cas had been perfectly content watching a movie, or going to the library, or even grocery shopping of all things. But this Cas, Manic Cas, was talking a mile a minute as he got dressed, pausing only to brush his teeth. Dean watched, shell-shocked, as Cas cleaned his room, did laundry, and made them both breakfast. He wasn't used to this. It was…weird. It shouldn't be, he supposed, but it was. This was like a completely different person. It was Cas…but it was…not Cas. That scared him.

They ended up going to the zoo. It worked out well because there was so much open space Cas could bounce and run and jump and didn't really have to worry about hitting anyone, with the exception of the occasional stroller. Damn things should never be allowed in public places anyway. They're nothing but a nuisance.

Cas growled at the tigers, roared at the lions, and talked to the elephants like they were people. Truth be told, it was nice to see Cas so interactive. When they stopped to get something to eat around 2pm, Dean was ready for a nap. Cas, however, was still buzzing with energy. Dean had no idea where it came from, but it was exhausting.

Cas went to order their food at an overpriced place called "The Kooky Koala" while Dean sat down and rested his feet.

He watched Cas from this perspective, as someone who didn't know his disorder, didn't know him. Dean thought that he just looked happy. Cas looked like he didn't have a care in the world and everything was bunnies and rainbows. Dean could see Cas chatting with the cute male cashier. The man laughed, and Cas flashed a smile, complete with dimples. Dean's stomach clenched. It wasn't often that Cas brought the dimples out. He'd thought it was only for him.

"Yay! Food food food!" Cas exclaimed as he set the tray down. Dean ate his meal in silence. Cas scarfed down about half of his french fries and a bite of his burger, then shoved it aside. He was all fidgety.

"So," Dean pried, hoping it sounded like casual conversation. "Who was that guy?"

Cas thought for a minute. "The one that took our orders? Oh. His name is Gabriel. He works here when he's not in art school."

"Yeah?" Dean almost thought it was endearing how completely clueless Cas was. Almost.

"Yeah. He gave me his number. And he programmed mine into his phone. We're gonna have lunch next week."

Dean nearly choked on his burger. Was Cas kidding? Had he really just set up a date with some guy while they were out on one?

* * *

><p>That week passed by much the same as Saturday had. Cas was still a huge ball of energy. Dean still needed more sleep. He loved Cas, he really did, but while he may not need all that much sleep, Dean did. It was frustrating. Really really frustrating.<p>

Before his lunch date with Gabriel, Cas had assured him that it was only a friendly thing. Dean wasn't so sure that Gabriel's intentions were pure, but he had no reason not to trust Cas. Especially when he gave Dean his puppy dog eyes. Those things were impossible to resist. And he was only human, after all.

He'd had no trouble making Cas go to class. In fact, Cas grumbled when one of his classes got cancelled. Cas talked more, and he talked about everything. They played loud music and danced around.

All in all, manic Cas was going to take some getting used to.

Friday, after his last class was over, Cas met him in his office like he always did. Except, this time, he stormed the office.

"We have plans tonight." He stated quickly and clearly, a grin on his face.

"Plans?" Dean smiled. "You mean, other than the usual movie watching and Chinese take-out-ing?"

Cas grinned. "Exactly."

Three hours later, Dean found himself in the middle of a keg party. It was mostly Grad students at the local University, so it wasn't like it was a house full of his students or anything, but it was still a keg party. Some frat boy's dad was manning the keg, which was more awkward than Dean had a capacity for. But Cas was smiling. His eyes were lit up like the fourth of july, and he was grinning so hard his face had to have hurt.

So Dean stayed, never leaving Cas's side, but never touching a drop of alcohol. The last thing he needed was to be caught drunk with a student. Besides, he was there designated driver.

Cas was three beers in when he started taking shots of something from a random person in the grungy kitchen. Dean had left him alone for two minutes to use the bathroom. And he comes back to Cas sitting on the floor with two dudes and a chick doing body shots. It was the first time Dean could honestly say that he saw red.

Cas caught his eye just before Dean turned on his heel and made a beeline for the door. He made it to the car and had the door open before Cas caught up to him, pinning him against the car.

"Wait..." he managed to get out just before Cas's lips came crashing against his own. It wasn't like any of their kisses before. This one was filled tasted of alcohol and was filled with want and need and lust.

"Cas," Dean said, pushing him off. "Wait just a minute. You're drunk. You don't know what you're doing, okay? Let's go home and get some rest."

"Let's have sex," Cas slurred next to Dean's ear. They hadn't broached the subject before. They hadn't gone any farther than kissing. They weren't doing this now. Their first time together sure as hell wasn't going to be drunken after a keg party.

"Cas…" he pushed him off again and attempted to get him into the car. "Cas, come on. Let's go home."

"No," Cas smiled as he said it. Dean knew not to push. He knew he shouldn't do anything to cause mistrust or anger or whatever else all that research had told him. But the image of Cas doing body shots off some stranger was forever emblazoned in his mind.

"Goddammit, Cas! What's the matter with you? Get in the fucking car!"

Neither spoke for a moment. The party was still roaring behind Dean, but all he could hear was his heart pounding in his ears. Shit. He'd messed up. Shit. Shit.

Shit.

Cas seemed to have sobered up in those few seconds. His eyes cleared up, his posture straightened, and his mouth thinned into a grim line. Dean could feel him withdrawing.

"Alright then," Cas said somberly. "You've made yourself perfectly clear."

With that, he walked off into the night. Dean saw him walk to the back of the house, and then he disappeared. He stood there, dumbfounded. What the hell had just happened?

But he knew what had happened. He knew perfectly well.


	5. Chapter 5

I know this is short! I'm sorry.

AND it's the last real chapter...

BUT I have an epilogue written. And you all will LOVE it.

Enjoy!

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><p>Cas felt nauseous. And it wasn't the alcohol's fault, as much as he wanted to believe it was. Last night had gotten out of hand. He knew that. He also knew that he shouldn't have had anything to drink stronger than apple juice, but he did it anyway. During a manic episode, even caffeine was considered an intoxicant.<p>

The thing was, unless you've been there yourself, people really had no idea what it's like to be manic. It's almost like when you heat up a molecule. Everything within the molecule shakes and rattles and buzzes all at once until finally just flies apart. That's what it's like, sort of. Your body is buzzing and you can't stop bouncing. Every thought you've ever had, big or small, comes rushing back all at once. You want to go and do so many things that you can't choose just one. Things you hadn't even known you felt come slamming into your psyche. And all you can do is sit back and let it happen. Like you're the only person left on your side during dodge ball. When you're manic, you don't feel like you have control over your body and its actions, so you just concede to the crazy and watch your world soar.

And it's great, it truly is. Every color is brighter. Every word is more beautiful. Every is just…more. Until the molecule flies apart. And then you're everywhere and nowhere all at once. No matter how long the manic episode has lasted, it always takes a few days to find all your pieces and fit yourself back together. And for those few days, you feel fairly normal. Like you did when you were a kid, or a teenager. The world is not Technicolor, but it's not black and white either. Then you realize that you've lost some pieces, and not all of them fit together right, and you're basically just a broken mass of atoms. That's when the depression hits.

So cycle begins again.

Sunday was Cas's puzzle day, as he liked to call it. He spent the day doing things that most people found mundane, but he found…reassuring. It was nice, especially on days like this, to know that you could still do the simple things. Like making your bed. And folding clothes. And grocery shopping. Cas made a list of all the things he needed and headed to the locally owned store. He hated Walmart. There were always too many people. And he felt too rushed.

* * *

><p>When Dean went to Cas's apartment, he was intent on doing some quick cleaning and putting the dishes away. But upon entering, he found it to be spotless. It was hospital sterile my any means, but much better than expected.<p>

Of course, it wasn't as if he'd thought Cas would fall apart without him. But…it had certainly crossed his mind. He thought he'd known what to expect. But even those most adept at something often fail in the practical application. The most puzzling thing, though, was that Cas was nowhere to be found.

So he took a seat on the ugly yellow couch and he waited.

* * *

><p>On days like this, Cas liked lists. With the grocery list all crossed off, he made a list of what he would do for the rest of the day.<p>

_-Put away groceries._

_-Do homework._

_-Watch SyFy monster movie marathon._

_- Sleep._

Cas opened the door to his apartment and immediately went to the kitchen. He was halfway through getting everything squared away when he heard footsteps behind him.

"Cas?"

He turned to find Dean standing in the threshold, his hands in his pockets. Suddenly, his list only contained one thing

_-Dean._

"How did you get in, Dean?" Cas wondered as he continued with his task.

"You…You gave me a key…Remember?"

A blank look crossed Cas's face, quickly followed by panic, then faked remembrance. Dean knew Cas. He could tell he had no recollection of giving him the key.

"Oh. Right." Cas covered. "Well, I guess you're here about Friday. I apologize. I very clearly wasn't in my right mind and—"

"Cas." Dean stopped him. "You don't have to apologize. It's not your fault. At all. It's your disease, okay? I know you can't help it."

Cas slammed the cabinet door and turned to face him. "Don't you get it? I AM my disease. It's not responsible for my actions. I am. Whether I'm manic or depressed or jolly as goddamn Santa Claus, it's on me."

"Cas…" It was all Dean could get out. He felt like saying his name over and over and over again. He wanted to take away his boyfriend's pain. "You…You just put the milk in the soup cabinet."

Panicking, Cas corrected his mistake and sighed.

"Hey, Cas. It's okay. I love you."

"Dean." He sighed again and led them to the couch to sit. "I can feel it, babe. My meds aren't working as well as they used to. My brain…My body chemistry…it's all resisting help. And these meds…these were the last hope of recovery. I'm giving you an out. If you walk away, right now, there will be no hard feelings, no regrets. But if you stay…If you don't walk out that door right now, then you're in it for the long haul. IT will be pain and heartbreak. But it can also be fun and love and happiness." He paused and looked directly into Dean's hazel eyes. "So what's it gonna be? Stay or go?"


	6. Epilogue

The epilogue.

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>One of Dean's favorite things to do was watch his students. Not in a creepy way like the physics professor they just hired, but he just liked to get to know his students. By the end of the first class session, he could usually tell you their names, what their major was, and what kind of person they were. As people filed into the classroom, he couldn't help but smile. Things like this, things that brought on memories, were worth so much now.<p>

At 6:05pm, he closed the classroom door and stood in front of the class. He was nervous, to say the least.

"Um," He started, lamely. "This is a support group for Bipolar Disorder. If you have this disease, or if you have a loved one who suffers, you are welcome here. This isn't Math 321, so if you're here for that, you can get out."

His awful joke actually earned a few snickers from the group.

"It's the first meeting, so I figured I'd start with telling you a little about myself. As a rule, if you want to share your story, that's great. If you don't, that's fine too. Support can come from simply being here." A few people nodded. "Well. My name is Dean. I teach literature here at the college. And…uh…five years ago, I met my soul mate. He walked into this very classroom, and I was immediately hooked."

If anyone had any qualms about him being gay, it didn't show. They just listened intently.

"When I found out he was bipolar, I….I went crazy researching. Not that I thought I could fix him or anything. I just…I needed to understand what it was like. I wanted to be with him so badly that I thought if I read everything I could, that I would be prepared. I wasn't."

This earned a few laughs, people understanding what he meant. This felt good. It felt good to talk.

"When we met, he was in a depressive episode. And I learned how to…handle those fairly quickly. But when the mania set in…I had no clue." He paused, eyes misting up. "It was hard. Not being able to help. Seeing someone you love so out of control. You don't know their suffering until…until way after the fact. After they've already crashed. Um. About two years ago, after cycle after cycle, bipolar psychosis set in. Even on good days, he could hardly function properly. One morning I had to keep reminding him how to brush his teeth and…and I did all I could to help him…I did. But…"

Dean trailed off, trying to compose himself.

"He's in a facility now. Something…long term. He has a roommate, even, whose name is Gabriel. Cas says…that's his name…Cas, he says that he's happy. That his meds are working. And that he'll get out soon. But I…I know better. I know that he probably won't be able to fully re-enter society, not completely. He stays there Sunday through Thursday. I visit him during the allowed three hour period. And he stays with me on Fridays and Saturdays. For all intents and purposes, I'm his legal guardian. I'm the only one who's stuck with him through all of this. He…" He pauses, then looks directly into the audience instead of at his hands. "He gave me an option once. He told me that he could feel his meds start to slip. He could feel his brain resisting meds. And he said….and he told me that I could walk away now, with no hard feelings. Or I could stick around and probably get my heart broken. But that's the thing. My heart isn't broken. Yeah, it hurts like hell sometimes. But…it's worth it. Because Cas, he's…he's getting help. That's what matters the most, I think. That I didn't leave him."

Silence filled the room. No one moved. Several people had tears in their eyes. Some were looking down at their shoes. Dean sat down, leaving the floor open for anyone else.

A girl stood up. She was average in all the major respects. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Average build. But Dean could see something in her eyes. It looked like hope.

"Hi…everybody," She started. "I…um…My name is Eden. I'm 19 years old. And I'm…I'm bipolar. I was diagnosed after I…I tried to kill myself."

As the girl spoke, everyone listened intently. Dean could see the passion she had for life, despite all her hang-ups. It made him wonder if Cas looked the same way at that age.

For the next hour, people shared and laughed and cried.

* * *

><p>"Dean!" Cas nearly screamed when he saw him in the doorway to his room. "How was the meeting, did you have a good time? Did you talk about me?" He bit his lip nervously. "Did they like me?"<p>

Dean just laughed and pulled Cas into a warm hug. The meeting had reaffirmed something that he had known for a while now. Cas made his life whole. They were made for each other. Of course, it wasn't perfect.

But what's life without a few ups and downs?


End file.
